Near Fatal Accidents
by MBP
Summary: The Weasleys seemed to have so much bad luck throughout the series and beyond . In a joint effort, Dodger Gilmore and I are writing a three-parter, in which each chapter will deal with Ginny and the twins as they cope with these events together.
1. Birthday Surprises

**_A/N: Now presenting ... a collaborative effort by Dodger Gilmore and MBP. We've been writing back and forth about doing something like for a year now and finally got around to it. It will be a three-parter. We hope you like it. Please read and REVIEW!!_**

Zonko's was empty, and Fred looked at George and sighed.

"Well, there goes that idea," he said, gesturing through the window to the empty aisles. "If Dumbledore's holding them all prisoner on the grounds, then there's no point in opening a branch here."

George sighed as well and nodded. "Yeah, I know," he said, but he looked longingly through the window and muttered, "but just imagine …"

"How much we'd make?" Fred finished. He shook his head. "We don't even know when this whole thing will be over. Maybe after Harry kicks the crap out of You Know Who, we can think about it again. Until then, though… we're better off where we are."

George nodded his agreement. "Yeah, and we'll make WWW into a palace." His eyes gleamed, and Fred's expression mirrored his own. They were silent for a moment, each imagining their glorious future.

"Mr. Weasley!"

The voice startled them out of their reveries, and they both turned to see Professor McGonagall hurrying toward them, her robes flapping around her. She looked even more serious than usual, and the twins glanced at one another and shrugged.

"Hello there, Professor," Fred called. "How are things at Hogwarts?

She stared at them gravely for a moment, and George suddenly felt as though a stone had lodged itself in the pit of his stomach. Beside him, Fred stiffened, and he knew that both of them were thinking the same three words: _Ron and Ginny_.

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath before she said, "Professor Dumbledore sent me to bring you both back to Hogwarts. There's been an – incident. Your brother is in the hospital wing. It seems that Harry stopped the poison before it could spread, but –"

But before she could get any further, George blurted, "Poison?"

Fred glanced at him quickly, and their eyes mirrored the other's thinly disguised fear. Consciously taking a deep breath, they each squared their shoulders.

"Lead on, Professor," Fred said grimly. And with one quick glance to confirm that they were following, Minerva McGonagall began walking quickly back to the castle, filling the twins in on the scant information she had as they went. By the time they reached the hospital wing, Fred's lips were pressed into a grim line, and George hadn't spoken since Hogsmeade.

McGonagall left them in the doorway and said something about seeing to their parents as she hastened away. Fred and George barely heard her as they walked into the room – and stopped short. Ron was lying there so still, so white, so – hurt.

George swallowed hard, and his eyes strayed involuntarily to where Ginny was watching him meditatively, and he knew that she knew. He looked back at Ron. It was better not to look at her right now.

Fred seemed to feel the same way as he began to question Harry and Hermione. George thought he had the right idea. The least amount of contact they had with their sister right now was very much in their best interest (and in the best interest of their reputations as well).

It wasn't until their parents returned that Harry and Hermione left, and Fred and George hopped up to give their seats over. Molly leaned over Ron immediately, smoothing his hair back from his head and commenting critically on the clamminess of his skin.

Fred couldn't help but glance over at Ron when she said this, and he had to bite his lip very hard to keep from shouting for Madame Pomfrey. Clearly, if Ron's skin were clammy, he should have medical assistance? His looked pleadingly at George, hoping to find someone else who would understand how serious this was, but George was staring at his hands, and when Fred looked down, he saw that they were trembling slightly. He turned away quickly. George understood all right. He understood _too _well.

Arthur was standing behind Molly now, his hand on her shoulder as he gazed at Ron, but his next words were directed at the twins.

"How did you find out the news?" he wanted to know, and Fred recounted the events of McGonagall finding them in Hogsmeade. Molly simply nodded, her eyes fixed on her youngest son, but Arthur turned his head to examine Fred, having heard the unaccustomed note of strain in his voice.

Under his father's penetrating gaze, Fred felt himself flushing uncomfortably, and he looked back at Ron. He knew what Arthur had heard. He just wished he hadn't. He continued to keep his eyes studiously away from Ginny as well. If their father had heard it, Ginny had too, and the last thing he needed now was _her _understanding. He wished George would speak, get him off the hook, but as they were sitting so close beside each other on the bed, he knew there wasn't much chance of that happening. George was just barely managing not to shake visibly, and Fred knew words were beyond him at the moment. He could hardly blame him.

Just then, Ron moaned and stirred, and all eyes in the room went directly to the bed.

"Ron? Sweetheart? Are you all right? We're all here. Don't trouble yourself." Molly's voice trembled, but she continued to smooth his hair gently as he opened his eyes and focused on her.

"Mum?" he asked in confusion, and then he turned his head, wincing as he spotted his father, Ginny and the twins. "What are you all doing here?" His voice was weak, and from the way he held his head so gingerly, it was clear to all of them that he was in pain.

"Ron, darling, you were poisoned," Molly said, and she pressed gently on his shoulders as he tried to sit up. He fell back against his pillows, a gasp of pain bursting from his mouth before he could stop it. He flushed scarlet and closed his eyes briefly, and Molly glanced at the twins sternly as if to prevent them from saying anything, but then her own mouth fell open slightly when she saw that this wouldn't be necessary.

They seemed to be completely absorbed in Ron's plight, and without saying a word, George leaned forward and gently arranged the pillows so Ron could sit up more easily. Once he was better situated, he managed a smiled and asked, "So when do I get out of here? And where – where are Hermione and – and Harry?"

While Molly and Arthur explained that Ron wouldn't be able to leave immediately, Ginny finally managed to catch her brothers' eyes and motioned that perhaps they should leave. Neither Fred nor George relished being alone with their most perceptive sibling at the moment, but one glance at the bed was all it took for them to know that Ron would be asleep again inside of two minutes, so Fred grudgingly said, "We'll be going now. We'll stop by to see you tomorrow, though."

Ron's answering smile, though weak and pained, was enough to make both Fred and George try to smile back.

The three of them walked in silence towards the front doors. When Ginny didn't appear to be on her way up to Gryffindor tower, Fred threw her a questioning look, but she didn't meet it. Her eyes were still fixed on George, who barely seemed aware that his feet were moving, let alone the way he was being closely examined. Fred knew better than to comment or ask questions about his sister's presence, though, as this could be one of those occasions when arguing with Ginny would mean to risk some serious hexing.

Pushing open the front doors, Ginny stopped to let the twins out and then broke the silence. "You guys going home?" she questioned, directing it to George, clearly hoping to get him to speak. But it took Fred only one glance at the pale shade of his brother's face to know not to expect any response from him yet.

So he stepped in, despite not being sure of the answer himself. "Yeah, I think so," he replied to Ginny, but his eyes searched George's. He had looked up at Fred's slight hesitation and gave a short nod. "Home it is, then," Fred concluded, pulling his hand through his hair and feeling his sister's penetrating gaze change its focus to himself.

"You don't have to come back tomorrow, you know. If you're busy at the shop, I mean," Ginny said, her hidden meaning clear – _if it's too hard on you_. "I could always just owl you and let you know how he is."

"We'll come," George interjected hoarsely, making Ginny and Fred turn to him sharply, both seeing the determination in his eyes.

"All right," Ginny nodded slowly. "I'm sure he'll be glad for the company, anyway. So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?" she offered, and Fred let out a breath of relief. He knew that George wouldn't be able to hold himself up here much longer, and he suspected that he would soon be having trouble keeping the conversation going, himself.

"Yeah. Now – you take care, sis, okay?" Fred said, hearing himself how the joking note in his voice got lost somewhere on the way. He meant it, though. They couldn't take any more incidents now.

Ginny managed a tired smile, then went and put her arms around her brother. Immediately, she felt Fred's shoulders tensing with the effort to keep his breathing under control. She knew better than to say anything right then, better than to force him to open his mouth and actually speak.

Turning to George, she made out a shiver in him that she with a jolt realized had nothing to do with the chilliness of the evening. Despite a slight worry that he might shake her off, she took her chances and gently embraced him as well. She knew he might need it, and she just couldn't not. As it turned out, he did nothing to protest, even if he hardly hugged her back either. But he allowed himself to be enveloped by her warm arms, allowed her to feel his increasing trembling. Before she knew it, it was time to let go if he was ever going to be able to make it back to Diagon Alley in one piece.

"See you guys tomorrow," she said with a strained smile. Fred could see her swallowing tightly and gave her what he hoped was an encouraging look. He then turned back to George, who, after making sure that Fred was behind him, started walking in a quick pace towards Hogsmeade. Fred, after one last glance at Ginny, followed him.

Finally back in the sanctuary of their flat, George stumbled half-blindly to the couch, sinking down heavily and hiding his face in his hands. With a sigh, Fred slumped down beside him, inwardly wishing he could just go to bed and forget this day had ever happened. But, right now, it didn't look as if he had that choice.

Putting a hand on George's shoulder, he spoke quietly, "He'll be all right, you know. Didn't you hear Madame Pomfrey?" He honestly did find it quite possible that George hadn't managed to grasp every part of their conversation, with the state he had been in, even if he did doubt that anyone could have missed that particular assurance, as it had been asked for such a number of times.

"Yeah. I know," George answered shortly. His voice was lower than usual, but at least he was using it. That was progress.

"So?" Fred questioned, trying to remain patient while still getting somewhere.

With a wry smile that more resembled a grimace, George removed his hands. "Do you really think this will be the last time someone in our family gets in a _near_-fatal accident? Remember the Chamber of Secrets? Dad and the snake? The giant chess table? The damn Department of Mysteries?" he recounted lividly. Then it was like someone had pulled the plug out of him. After a beat, he continued in a different, shakier voice. "I just – next time… how good do you honestly think the chances are we'll keep getting lucky?"

For a moment, Fred gaped at him. "You shouldn't think like that," he mumbled in the end, having to shake his head a little to rid it of all the repressed images that had returned at their mentioning.

"I can't help it, can I? And you know I'm right," George said mercilessly, his eyes hard again.

Realizing that he was unable to disagree, Fred tried the only thing he had left, being on the verge of desperation to just make George _stop_ saying these things. A joke. "Well, if I'll be the one to go, I solemnly swear to haunt you forever."

It was weak-sounding, and not a very good one, but it was a joke. George turned to his twin in disbelief. "You're joking? About _this_? Seriously?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" Fred replied, his exasperation slipping through.

"I don't know!" George bellowed. "Just not that. Not about _that_. How'd you feel if it was me who had almost died today, who was hurting and…" He had to stop, closing his eyes for a second, but then shook himself, back to glaring at Fred. "Would you be joking then? Or if it'll be me who's _the one to go_? Would you think that was _funny_?"

Fred wasn't even sure how it happened, himself. At George's words, the image of his twin's cold, pale body flashed before his eyes and then, his struggle was lost. Unable to stop them, he felt the tears burning in his eyes, the tremble of his lower lip, the hitch of breath in his throat. Too shocked to attempt hiding it – this was only George, after all – he met his brother's wide-eyed, worried gaze.

"I – I'm sorry," George stuttered, looking thoroughly shaken as he cautiously watched Fred's struggle to at least bite back full-on sobs.

But Fred shook his head. No. This wasn't okay. It just wasn't.

George felt his own eyes start filling, but he blinked furiously. This was not the time. "I really – I really am sorry," he forced himself to continue. "I – I know that you didn't mean – of course I know. I was just… you can't joke about that. You just _can't_."

Tentatively, he put his arm around his brother, wincing as he felt just how violently he was trembling. "C'mon, Fred. It won't be me next. Don't… don't think like that. We can't," he tried, his voice higher than it should be.

"That's – that's what I was trying to – to tell _you_," Fred choked, frowning at his twin, a slight sparkle now returned to his red eyes.

"I know, mate, I should've listened. I was just…"

"I know," Fred sighed, impatiently brushing a hand across his face.

"You okay now?" George questioned quietly after a few moments of listening to his brother taking deep, calming breaths.

"I guess," Fred shrugged. "Yeah."

"Good. Because I am taking you out for some good old strong Firewhiskey. What do you say, bro?" George asked, standing up and offering his hand to his still sitting twin.

"You know, that might just be the best idea you've had all day," Fred said, a ghost of a grin finding its way back into his features as he allowed his brother to pull him to a standing position.

"Well, yeah. Sometimes…"

"Your brain cells do remember to get their asses to work? Yeah. Sometimes," Fred finished, his smile broadening. "Only very rarely, though," he couldn't help adding, earning a sharp glare that didn't quite hide the grin that was lurking behind it.


	2. Holes

_**A/N: And we hereby present you with... the second chapter! We hope you like it. Please read and REVIEW!**_

The Burrow should never be this quiet. It wasn't that no one spoke, no, that would be a first and possibly a miracle, but those who did used hushed, low voices. And that wasn't right.

Of course, nothing about tonight was right. Ginny still couldn't quite comprehend that it hadn't all been a horrible dream. First, the waiting. That should have been the worst part, but it wasn't. Watching _George_, her big brother, unconscious, covered in blood, being carried into the house by Lupin and Harry. That was everything she had forced herself not to picture, right in front of her. And then Mad-Eye. Bill's expression when he told them. Harry's. No. She wouldn't think about him. Not anymore, now that the anxious waiting was over. Now that the state of exceptions and handholding was gone. He wasn't her boyfriend. (It didn't matter that she had spent most of the summer repeating those words to herself. She still found herself forgetting, wanting to go out to check on him, instead of watching Ron and Hermione do it. It should have been her, but it wasn't. Not anymore.)

Ginny sighed and forced her eyes from the closed door. He'd come eventually. She didn't care that it had been a really long time. She wasn't supposed to care anymore. With an involuntary flinch, she instead found her gaze upon her now dozing brother. George. Who only had one ear now. (How could _anyone_ actually be missing an ear?) Who would never be identical to his twin again. Swallowing, she turned away from him. She didn't want to think about how much worse things could have been. How close they had been to that, the very worst.

Her mother was right beside George, regarding him intently, jumping at his every stir. She wasn't crying at the moment, but her eyes were suspiciously red, and Ginny knew what her mother's slightly too long time spent alone in the kitchen earlier had meant. Ginny's father had his arm around his wife's shoulders, letting her lean into him, but his eyes too were fixed upon his injured son with a deep frown of concern.

Fred, who had mustered up half-hearted jokes and forced laughs as long as his twin had been awake, was now about as far from grinning as he could get. Ginny was sure she had never seen him so – scared? Terrified was more like it. His eyes were unmoving, staring at his twin's wound, almost mesmerized, transfixed. When Ginny looked properly, she noticed with a pang that his hands were shaking. (Of course they would be. This was _George_. None of them could imagine what this must be like for Fred. What it would have been like if George hadn't waked up – but, no, she mustn't go there. It was written in Fred's face that that was exactly where his mind was taking him, though, and she knew that nothing good could come from that.)

Her musings were interrupted by the door suddenly smashing open to reveal Ron, followed closely by Hermione and Harry. Ginny's feet gave an unwilling twitch, as if on their way over to them, but she stayed put, letting the three of them take seats in the corner of the room. For a second, she met Hermione's gaze, but she dropped it quickly. The sympathy in her friend's eyes meant that her own were definitely giving her away too much.

Ginny could not keep herself from watching them for long, though. Harry's words echoed inside her, about leaving, to not put them all at risk because of him. He really could be a fool sometimes. A damn, noble fool. Ginny wanted to hate him for it. She really wished she could make herself not _care_ so bloody much.

Her concern didn't cease as she carefully regarded Ron and Hermione, who were talking fast in muffled voices, every few seconds shooting furtive glances at Harry. (Ginny also noticed how Ron was studiously avoiding looking anywhere near their injured brother).

Harry. He was paler than the other two, and seemed not the slightest involved in, or even aware of their conversation. His face was set in a way that would seem unemotional, blank. If you didn't know him. Ginny did. Pure guilt was shining from his eyes as he seemed unable to remove them from George's still form, along with a horror she hadn't seen in him since he'd been crouching beside the corpse of their former Headmaster. He believed that this was his fault – Mad-Eye, George. She almost wanted yell at him, set him straight. He really was a git, sometimes. But she stayed where she was. He didn't want her help, did he? He had broken up with her. To protect her, sure, but the fact still remained. He didn't want her, not right now. So she should leave him be. Shouldn't she?

Her hesitation lasted for what felt like several hours. Then, just as she saw him biting his lip hard and made her decision to get up, someone else beat her to it. Fred, who was twice as pale as Harry, had stood up abruptly. Without a word to anyone, he went outside. With a last regretful glance at Harry, Ginny followed her brother. Fred's need was greater at the moment. She knew she had to be the one who did this. She was the second best after who Fred really needed right now.

He wasn't difficult to find, as his legs seemed to only have carried him a few yards from the front door. Ginny knew he would have wanted to hide better if he'd been able to. He would definitely not have liked anyone else walking in on him with the state he was in – his whole body visibly trembling, his face by now almost turning grey. She swallowed, steeling herself. She had to be strong for him. She would not let herself get affected by seeing him this way – it'd only hurt him more.

Fred hadn't noticed her coming, but was brought out of his nightmare-like state by his sister's warm presence settling itself on the grass beside him, close enough for their shoulders to touch. At first, Ginny didn't speak. She just sat there, letting him gather himself as he gulped for air.

Then she spoke, her voice unusually gentle. "Fred. He's okay now. He's just sleeping."

"He's not okay," Fred found himself croaking. "He… he hasn't got two ears anymore. How… _how_ exactly is that _okay_?"

"He's alive. That's what matters," Ginny whispered, and her voice was suddenly less steady. Fred didn't fail to notice that she didn't have a proper answer to his question, but didn't comment as she shifted even closer to him, to comfort with touch instead of words. He hated himself. It should be the other way around. She was his baby sister. He should always, _always_, be the one comforting her.

Leaning his head back against the wall behind him, Fred closed his eyes. But that was a mistake. Unbidden images resurfaced in his mind. Visions of blood, too much blood covering George's face (his own face, almost). George almost slipping off the broom, too close, way too close, as he lost consciousness (the large black hole building up inside his own stomach at the sight, at what it could have meant). Lupin catching him at the last moment. His dad's pained but hard voice telling him that they couldn't do anything, they needed to keep going…

"We saw them," he spoke hoarsely, unaware of planning to do so, his eyes still closed. "When – when it happened. But we didn't – we couldn't – do anything."

"You couldn't have." Ginny's voice was firm again, almost back to normal.

The words kept slipping from Fred's tongue, desperate. "But what if – if it'd have been my fault? If he'd fell… if he'd… and we had just _left_."

"He didn't, Fred, he didn't," she assured him, forcing him to look at her. "He's okay. He didn't fall off. And you couldn't have turned back or you and Dad wouldn't be here now, okay? Dad would have turned back if there had been any chance of it, you know that. But you couldn't, Fred, you couldn't."

Her eyes were sparkling now, and her voice broke at the end. Out of reflex, he took her hand in his, as if he was still the big brother who she believed could save her from everything. She squeezed back tightly for a moment, then let go to motion towards the house. "Come on, let's go back inside."

But Fred shook his head firmly. "No. I can't be in there. Not – not now."

"Why not?" she asked, studying him with a frown.

"He can't see me. Not – not like this," Fred tried to explain, between the lines also saying that _he_ couldn't see his twin like this either, so hurt, so fragile, so close to …

"Fred," Ginny urged him patiently. "He needs you."

"Not like this," Fred protested, gesturing to his still shaking hands. "He doesn't need that, it'll only make it…."

"Are you kidding?" Ginny asked incredulously. "If it had been _you_ lying in there, wouldn't you want him there, no matter how he was reacting?"

"I guess," he admitted unwillingly after a beat. "But I _can't_. He's not… we're not…" He broke off, unable to continue, but Ginny understood.

"You don't need to be identical to be twins," she said quietly, and Fred almost choked at the underlying meaning of her words – _they weren't identical anymore_. Would never be again.

"I – I know," he managed to get out. "And at least he's here, alive, and that _is _what matters, really. But I just really _hate_ that – that _everyone_ will be able to tell us apart now."

"Oh, Fred," she sighed, putting her arms around his violently trembling shoulders. It took all the strength he could muster not to start sobbing into her soft hair.

"You still need to go back in there, you know," she said after a while of simply holding him. "He'll probably be awake by now. Mum said he'd only be sleeping lightly, on and off. And you should be there. He's probably as upset by this as you are, don't you think?"

"I – I guess," Fred agreed grudgingly, realizing that she had a point. "Okay. Okay," he repeated, taking deep breaths to steady himself.

Ginny didn't let him stall it for very long, though. After just a few moments, she simply grabbed his hand, pulled him up and started leading him inside. He let her, knowing that she was right, despite how much he did not feel ready for this. At all.

* * *

George stirred, a groan escaping as his eyes fluttered open. Molly leaned over instantly, brushing his hair back gently.

"It's okay, dear," she said, and her voice only trembled slightly. "You're okay now. Just relax."

But George was already struggling to sit up. Arthur leaned over as well and pressed a hand to his shoulder to prevent him from hurting himself.

"Take it easy, son," he said soothingly. George quickly took in the worry in his father's eyes and fell back against his pillows. His eyes scanned the room, finding Harry's bowed head, Hermione's worried eyes, Ron's extreme pallor, but… no Fred? Or Ginny, for that matter?

"Mum?" he asked, and he winced at how weak his voice sounded. He flushed, suddenly wishing that no one else were there. Clearing his throat, he looked only at her as he asked, "Where – where's Fred?"

His mother's face changed. It was slight, but he saw it, and his heart started racing.

"Mum?" Desperation and fear made his voice crack, and he flushed even more deeply.

Molly suddenly seemed to remember that they had an audience. Placing a hand soothingly on George's brow, she turned to Ron, Harry and Hermione and stared at them meaningfully for a brief moment.

Almost instantaneously, Hermione was on her feet, hauling Harry and Ron up along with her.

"We'll just be in the kitchen if you need anything," she said quickly as she pulled them out of the room behind her, ignoring Ron's complaints to "Ger_off_, Hermione. I want to see – " but the rest was cut off as the door closed behind them.

Molly glanced at Arthur, who looked at George and then said quietly, "I'm just going to go out there and put a Silencing charm here so you can get some rest. If you need anything, just call. I'll be close."

George nodded slightly, but his eyes were still firmly fixed on his mother, and Arthur knew he wouldn't rest until he knew where his twin had gone. One quick look at his wife let him know that she didn't relish explaining this, but he also knew from the set of her shoulders that she was ready to try. Without another word, he slipped outside and muttered the spell before going to find the others in the kitchen.

Once everyone but his mother had gone, George finally opened his mouth again.

"Where's Fred?" he asked. His voice shook, and Molly reached over and continued to smooth his hair even as she said carefully, "He was here, honey. He only left a few minutes ago."

George stared at her and saw what she wasn't saying. He swallowed hard, and his eyes were suspiciously bright as he said, "Why – how – he _left_?"

Molly sighed. "He's very worried about you," she said softly, her hand continuing to move through George's hair. He closed his eyes, and Molly ignored the tears that slowly started to streak their way down his cheeks as she said soothingly, "I'm sure he'll be back any minute. Ginny went to make sure he was all right. You know she'll bring him back."

George's head moved slowly in acknowledgment, but then he opened his eyes and said hoarsely, "She wouldn't have to bring _me_ back. _I _wouldn't have left him here like this if he'd been the one to – "

He couldn't finish the sentence. His hand automatically drifted to the place where his ear used to be, but his mother caught it before it could get there, and she held it tightly. He closed his eyes again. Looking at her only made it hurt more right now. She didn't speak, and after a moment of silence, he lifted the sheet with his free hand and used it to wipe his face.

His eyes were still closed when he heard the noise he'd been waiting for. The door was opening, and then his face – well, the face that would've been his if he were still _whole _– was hovering over him.

He was vaguely aware of his mother releasing his hand and slipping from the room. Ginny didn't leave, though, and he wondered why until he realized that Fred was gripping her hand tightly. He looked at his twin more closely. Fred – well, he might still have two ears, but he probably looked just as bad as George did tonight. His face was grey, and his eyes held more anguish than George remembered seeing since – well, since Dumbledore's funeral.

But he couldn't find it in him to comfort him. That was _always _his job, and he just couldn't do it now. Besides, _he _was the one hurt here. Shouldn't Fred be comforting _him, _not _disappearing_?

He didn't know how long they stared at each other when Fred finally whispered, "Does – does it hurt?"

George shook his head slightly, but he couldn't stop himself from wincing, and Fred turned even paler if that were at all possible.

"D'you need me to go get Mum?" he asked hastily, and George snapped, "Why, so you can leave again?"

Fred's mouth fell open, but no words came out as silence dropped over them like a shroud. Ginny looked quickly between her brothers. It couldn't have been clearer to her that someone needed to set things straight here, and it didn't seem like either of them would be able to do it at all effectively.

She sighed and said, "George – if anything's bothering you, _I'll _go get Mum… but I don't think Fred offered to go so he could leave. Right, Fred?"

Fred glanced at her then, and she shuddered as she realized just how close he was to completely losing it. She looked quickly at George instead. His eyes were still angry, but there was something else there, and she spoke to it.

"Fred and I were just in the garden," she said softly. She kept her eyes only on George, knowing how much Fred wished she would stop talking. But she continued. "He didn't _want _to leave before. You can't think that's why he went. He was scared, George. We all were."

George focused on his sister as he said, "And I wasn't?"

But suddenly, he had to look away. As he stared at the wall, he mumbled brokenly, "The only person I wanted to see when I opened my eyes – and he wasn't here, Gin. Isn't this – this is harder for _me_, right? I'm the one – I'm the one who couldn't stop Snape from blasting my ear off. I'm the one who made us not …"

The lump in his throat made it impossible for him to continue, and he struggled to control his breathing. It was a minute before he realized that there was a familiar hand on his shoulder. He turned back over slowly to find Fred staring at him, his eyes shining identically.

"Ginny – Ginny says we're always twins," he said, his voice very low. "No matter—no matter what happens, we'll always be twins. If you have one ear or no ears… it doesn't matter. We'll just have to grow our hair longer."

George nodded slowly, and he tried to swallow again, but he couldn't seem to do it properly. Ginny saw this, and she squeezed Fred's hand. He glanced at her and knew he had to keep talking. He was unreasonably glad that she still didn't let go.

"This wasn't your fault, you know," he continued. "And – and I'm sorry. I didn't want to leave you for a second; I really didn't. But then you fell asleep, and I couldn't stop thinking about what you said that time when Ron – when I tried to make that joke. You asked how I would feel if _you _were the one – and I just had to get out of here, George. Because now I know how I would feel. And it was awful."

He suddenly felt himself choking on the words he'd told himself in the garden that he'd never say, and he dropped his head and stared at the floor. All he was doing was making this harder for George. He knew he shouldn't have let Ginny convince him to come back in the house.

But then George's voice was whispering, "But I'm still here. That's what's important, right?"

Fred's head came up slowly, and he looked at his twin now, his twin who only had one ear, whose eyes were worried and suspiciously bright. He nodded.

"It is," he whispered back. Slowly, he let go of Ginny's hand and sat down beside George in the spot he'd recently vacated. "It's all that matters."

Ginny watched the two of them for a moment before she slipped quietly out of the room. Her father was standing just beside the door, and it only took him one look at her face to know what she needed. Folding her into his arms, he murmured, "He's going to be all right. They both will," as she shook with silent sobs of her own.


End file.
